


Taller

by Cdelphiki



Series: Pennyverse Side Stories [3]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Kidnapping, Reunion, more fluff than expected but WAY less than my normal writing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-15
Updated: 2020-07-15
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:35:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25285486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cdelphiki/pseuds/Cdelphiki
Summary: When Damian was 10-months-old, Talia left him with Bruce. Before he turned two, Talia took him back, completely cutting Bruce out of his life.Now, eight years later, a little boy is holding a sword to Bruce’s neck and calling him “Father.”Bruce doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
Relationships: Bruce Wayne & Damian Wayne
Series: Pennyverse Side Stories [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1825360
Comments: 34
Kudos: 403





	Taller

**Author's Note:**

> This is like a what-if off [ In For a Penny. ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17558375/chapters/41378861)
> 
> What if Bruce didn’t get Damian back when he was kidnapped, and everything then progressed as it did in canon.

The years since Damian’s kidnapping had not been kind to Bruce. 

Dick left him. When he was barely eighteen. Packed up and moved to Bludhaven, where he still lived some six years later. 

Bruce couldn’t blame him. Not really. He’d not been much of a father, once Damian went missing. 

Then Jason came along, and Bruce had tried _really hard_ for that boy. He’d worked on himself, worked on his availability. Adopted him, right from the start. 

It hadn’t mattered.

Because in the end, Jason had left him, too. In the most painful way possible. 

At least Damian was _out there._

_Somewhere._

Growing up, living his life. 

Jason’s had been cut short. 

After that, Bruce had sworn off kids. He wanted nothing to do with children ever again, because bringing a child in his life just meant he’d _love_ that child, and life didn’t let him keep the things he loved. 

He wasn’t sure how many more times he could go through that. 

Those he loved suffered in the worst ways possible, and how could he do that to another child?

Then Tim came around. Kind of forced his way into Bruce’s life. Reluctantly, and completely against his will, Bruce had come to love Tim, as well. Had adopted him, when the opportunity arose, as tragic as it was. 

Talia had made herself scarce in the years since stealing Damian away from him. He’d tried to find them. Many times. But they always evaded him. Were always too well hidden. 

He hadn’t… given up. 

Per se.

But as Damian grew older, Bruce’s hope dwindled. He’d not even been two yet, when Talia took him away. There was no chance he’d even _remember_ Bruce at five. 

Or eight.

Or the ten he was now. 

What right would Bruce have to swoop in and steal him away? Rip him away from the only family he _remembered?_

To him, Bruce was the absent father, living on the opposite side of the planet, and as much as he wanted to see his son, as _badly_ as he wanted to hold his baby in his arms, he was a stranger to Damian. 

He had no right over him any more. 

All he had left of his little boy were pictures and a stuffed cow. 

He’d given away everything else. To Clark, when Lois was expecting Jon. 

To Selina. When she was expecting Helena. 

Damian was too old for baby things, anyway. And walking past a nursery was painful. 

They’d turned _that_ room into Jason’s. 

It wasn’t any less painful, now. 

Bruce tried not to think about any of it. Tried not to think about Damian. 

But it was hard, when Talia al Ghul kidnapped him while he was on mission in England. 

Strung him up and got right in his face. 

Hers was not a face he wanted to see. 

”Talia,” he snarled, flexing his hands, testing his strength against the bat-thing that held him tight. 

It would take a remarkable show of strength to free himself. He wasn’t sure he _could._ Even if he did, there were half a dozen more of the bat-things all around him. He knew himself outnumbered when he saw it. 

He was just thankful Tim had taken the weekend off, rather than accompanying him on this trip. 

“What do you want, Talia,” he spat, when she came too close, running her fingers across his chest. He had no interest in _her._ And she should _know that_ by now. 

She had killed any chance of there being anything between them eleven years prior. 

And then _burned it to the ground_ when she stole their son away from him. 

“It’s nice to see you, too, Beloved,” she drawled, pulling away from Bruce and drawing her sword. She toyed with it, staring at the blade in her hand, without saying anything further. 

“What. Do. You. Want,” he ground out. _Games_ were not something he was interested in. 

“Hm,” she hummed, still toying with her blade for a moment before finally asking, “You remember our son?”

“How could I _forget,”_ he growled. If she had merely kidnapped him to _taunt_ him… 

He might need to call in Clark to hold him _back._ He pulled at his arms again, and could feel the give in his captors hold. Knew, if he pulled his arms in just the right way, kicked his legs back at just the right moment, he’d be able to free himself easily. 

“Hm. Yes, well,” she said, waving a hand at him, as if dismissing his anger, “He has grown wild. I can no longer control him.”

His sweet little baby? 

Unlikely. 

“What did you do to him?” he shouted, seriously contemplating calling in Clark. Because he was not sure he’d be able to control himself if he found out Damian had been mistreated in any way. 

And he couldn’t think of a single other explanation for _his_ Damian turning ‘wild.’ Not his sweet little baby who loved animals and was so gentle. So empathetic. So kind.

“Do not be so dramatic,” Talia snapped, “I thought you’d be happy.”

“Happy about _what.”_

“He needs… taming,” she said, twirling her sword around, a little, before she sheathed it again, “He lacks discipline. I had hoped some time with his father would straighten him out.”

“Time with,” he started, only to fumble over his words. 

Was she… 

Introducing him to Damian? 

Why… why would she… after all these years…?

What was her _game._

“You’ll hear from me soon, Beloved, though I’ll imagine you’ll be busy. I intend to hold the _whole world_ hostage.” 

Bruce tried to look back up at her, to ask her what the _fuck_ that meant, but his head was pushed forward by one of the man-bats, and the entire world seemed to freeze. 

Because a small child had materialized before him. 

A… boy.

 _His_ boy. 

In the eight years since he’d seen Damian, he had changed _so much,_ but at the same time,not at all. 

He had the same nose. The same… little button nose he’d had, as a baby. The same bright green eyes. 

The same scowl. 

“Damian,” he whispered, looking Damian up and down, trying to commit every _little detail_ to memory. 

“Father,” Damian responded, pushing his sword forward, almost touching Bruce’s neck, “I imagined you taller.” 

“You-“ Bruce started, but had to stop. Because he was overcome with laughter. 

The man-bats let go of him, and Bruce slumped to the ground, right to his knees, only keeping himself upright with his hands as his laughter turned a tad hysteric. 

His little boy. 

_His little boy,_ was standing right in front of him. Was… Was within reach. 

_Was coming home with him._

“You are the great warrior Mother has told me about?” Damian asked skeptically, his sword now sheathed. 

That was enough to pull Bruce back to the moment. He sniffed, and sat back so he could get a good look at his little boy. 

“Hi, Damian,” he said, smiling a little, to force the overwhelming urge to weep to _go away._

Damian scowled, a little, and shot Bruce a critical look. “How do you know my name?”

“ _What?_ ” 

Out of all the things Damian could ask… 

“My name. Mother said you did not know of me. She did not tell you my name just now. How do you know it?”

“I- _What?”_ Bruce repeated. 

“You are not as intelligent as Mother claimed. Shame.” 

“Damian,” he said, slowly, “You- you lived with me. For almost a _year,_ as an infant.” 

“Tt,” he huffed, rolling his eyes dramatically, “Now you are suggesting my mother is a liar. She has done a lot of things, but she has never _lied_ to me.”

“Just, come here,” Bruce said, looping an arm around Damian’s shoulders and tugging him close, “I have missed you so much.”

Damian tensed in Bruce’s arms, but didn’t push him away. That is, not until Bruce started crying. 

Bruce didn’t blame him. He’d be uncomfortable, too, if a stranger claiming to know and love him started crying into his hair. 

They had so much ground to recover. 

\- - - 

Damian was a massive brat.

Bruce felt like a terrible parent for thinking such a thing about his own _son,_ but Damian was downright _horrible._

He did nothing but yell and scream and throwing things around. He fought with Alfred. Fought with Bruce.

 _Hated_ Tim. 

Considering the boy had attempted to push Tim off the top level of the cave, that first night Bruce brought him home, he couldn’t trust Damian anywhere _near_ Tim. 

And Tim _hated_ Damian in return. 

Or, at least, considered him to be the ‘son of satan’ and avoided him at all costs. 

Bruce wasn’t sure how to make his family all mesh together. Wasn’t sure how to get _Damian_ to calm down and give them all a shot. 

All those years Bruce had imagined, fantasized with it would be like to get Damian back, never once had he considered he might not _like_ the boy. 

He still loved him, of course. Loved him so much it _hurt._

His son was finally home, and his home had been thrown into pure chaos. 

Handing Damian the cow had been a difficult decision. 

For eight years, that cow had been all Bruce had. The only physical reminder he had of the little boy he’d lost. 

Damian and Cow had been inseparable, when he was an infant. Bruce had bought _three more,_ the very second he realized how attached to the dumb toy Damian had become. He had _four_ of those cows, and when Talia’s men took Damian, they’d taken _none of them._

It’d been a stab in his heart, every time he looked at Cow. Knowing how scared Damian would be without it. How upset. 

Knowing Damian likely cried for weeks, if not _months,_ for that stupid cow. 

And in the eight years since Damian’s kidnapping, Bruce had become a little attached to the cow, himself. It sat on his bed stand. Right next to his favorite photo of Damian. He pat Cow’s head every night, as if doing so would be telling his own little boy ‘good night, I love you.’ 

Just like he’d done every single night Damian lived with him. 

Handing Damian _that_ cow was difficult. Because Damian destroyed _everything_ he was given. He was violent. He threw tantrums. 

And he was, above all, _not a child._

But Cow belonged to Damian, and Bruce was unable to put it off any longer.

“Damian,” he said, knocking on his boy’s door, allowing it to creak open as he did, “I wanted to give you something.”

“What is it _now,”_ Damian started, but paused when he got a look at the toy in Bruce’s hand. Bruce walked over to the bed where Damian was reading and held it out, for Damian to take.

But instead, Damian just said, “That’s… Mr. Cow.” 

“Yeah,” Bruce said, laughing a little to cover up the desire to cry. 

Because Damian _remembered._

“I—“ Bruce started, “He was yours. When you lived here. I’ve— I’ve kept him in my room, ever since you left. To remind me of you. But, he was yours, so I thought I should give him back.” 

“Why,” Damian said, slowly, in the least snotty tone Bruce had heard _yet,_ “Why do I remember a stupid toy but I do not remember you?”

Bruce sighed, and sat down on the bed next to his son. He placed Cow down in Damian’s lap, even though Damian made not move to take it. 

“I don’t know,” he said honestly. He’d been a little distraught when none of the photos had jogged _anything._

He hadn’t specifically _expected_ Damian to remember things from when he was 20-months-old, but to have his own boy accuse him of doctoring the photos, just to “get into his head” and “paint his mother as the liar” had hurt. 

“You were young. Most people don’t remember much from before the age of three, and you weren’t even two when you left.” 

“But I remember the cow.” 

“Yes,” Bruce said, placing his arm behind Damian as he leaned back, “You couldn’t sleep without the damn thing. My guess is you cried for it every night for months, after you left. It probably stuck with you because of that.” 

“Oh.” Damian placed his hand on Cow’s head and stroked. Just once. Before his cheeks flushed and he yanked his hand away sharply. 

“I’m really happy you’re back,” Bruce said, moving his hand so it was sitting on Damian’s shoulder. Damian still didn’t let him hug him, but at least he didn’t shrug his hand away. “I hope you know that. I want nothing more than to get to know you.” 

“Thank you, Father,” Damian said crisply, then faltered before adding, much less confidently, “I have always wished to… know you.” 

Bruce couldn’t help it. He pulled Damian in by the hand on his shoulder, and wrapped his arms around. “Well, I’m glad we have this chance, then.” 

For once, Damian didn’t fight him. He did fidget, a little, with Cow started to fall, but he caught the little toy and held it a little more securely while Bruce rested his head down on Damian’s hair. 

And when Damian didn’t push him away for several minutes, Bruce started to think… maybe Damian wasn’t a hopeless case, after all. 

**Author's Note:**

> You can thank anon for this. 
> 
> Anonymous said: Was re-reading ‘In for a Penny’ when I read this sentence “if we do not rescue Damian today, “Clark said, finally speaking up, “I have a feeling we will one day face him in battle”and thought what if Bruce wasn’t able to find Damian, instead meets him again when he’s ten, how would he feel?What would happen? Damian holding a sword to the father he doesn’t remembers throat, dick finally seeing his brother again. Memories, baby things left untouched in the manor. Would love to hear your thoughts-M
> 
> I had thought about the sweet angst it would cause in the past, and that ask got my juices going to where I wrote this whole thing last night after the new chapter for The Best Things. 😂 I’m glad in the real story Bruce got Damian back. :3


End file.
